


Invisibility and Clarity

by Miko_of_Midnight



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Day 6, Foster Care, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Olivarry Week, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko_of_Midnight/pseuds/Miko_of_Midnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry was put in the foster system rather than ending up with the Wests. He then got a scholarship to Oliver's prep school. However his family situation is... less than ideal.</p><p>For Olivarry Week 2015 Day #6: Hurt/Comfort</p>
            </blockquote>





	Invisibility and Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> So, I went down this one train of thought… what would have happened to Barry if Joe couldn’t take him in (didn’t have a foster license or what have you)? I think Barry got pretty lucky as far as foster families go because I’m sure there’s a lot of shitty ones out there in the system. Once I started down this train of thought there were quite a few different plots that split and diverged in my head. I didn’t even know which I was going to pick myself until I started writing. Some time in the future I may go back and put one of my other plot thought/theory into words. 
> 
> High School AU where Barry was placed with a family in Starling City and became the scholarship kid at Oliver’s fancy prep school. 
> 
> Apologies for any spelling/grammar errors, it was done in less than two hours (because I procrastinated hardcore today) and there was little (read: no) editing. But here it is my drabble-y contribution to Day #6-Hurt/Comfort.
> 
> It was in the tags but: Trigger Warning for Abuse (putting that here to be safe)

There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t miss his parents. Some days were better than others, of course. He could often pretend that piece of his heart, the part that ached like a pulled muscle, didn’t exist. He could live his life and deal with day-to-day trifles. Occasionally that pain is brought to the forefront and he’s felt feeling unmotivated and bereft. Rarely, the ache will come rushing back and will so completely wreck him emotionally that he sobs like he’s a five year old terrified that he lost his parents in a crowd.

He stifled this feeling as much as he could until he was alone on these really bad days. His foster parents had no tolerance for whining or crying, he had quickly discovered.

Some days he wondered how he had ended up in Starling City. He missed Central City. His friends, the familiarity, everything really. On the other hand, everything reminded him of parents, which was sharply bittersweet, so much so that he couldn’t decide if it was a good thing that he wasn’t surrounded by those physical landmarks or not.

Barry preferred to spend as little time at his foster home as possible. He had already skipped a grade and tried his best at school. He did all of this not to make his parents proud. Although he supposed they would have been, but to do anything he could to get out of the fostercare system faster. He had even applied to a fancy prep school for their one scholarship position for his year.

It was different than he thought it would be. These rich kids ignored him or made snide comments about his obvious lack of wealth. Even his Chemistry lab partner pretty much pretended he didn’t exist. He didn’t care, that much, anyway. He preferred to focus on school. If he graduated early he could get emancipated quickly.

Everything was fine. Not good by a long shot, and hadn’t been good since his dad was falsely jailed for his mother’s murder, but fine enough. Until his foster father went ballistic one night and probably cracked his ribs, It was a one time thing though, and would have blown over, if he hadn’t stupidly been wrapping up his ribs in the locker room after school and said apathetic lab partner hadn’t walked in. 

* * *

 

Oliver had stayed late to lift, and his father had paid for the state-of-the-art weight room, so he was pretty much allowed there whenever he wanted, including after hours. He was eager to get home though, for dinner. He planned to just grab his stuff from the locker room and head home. He was about to leave when he heard a noise- He’d thought he was the only one left.

Oliver looked around and found the source of the noise in the back of the locker room; it was grunts of pain for his lab partner. He was attempting to bind up his chest that was sporting a large purple blotch the size of both of his fists that looked really bad.

“Dude, what happened?” He asked, shocking the younger kid, making him jump. And then he hissed, as if in pain at the sudden movement. 

“I- uh- It’s, it’s nothing,” he said quickly, fumbling for his shirt. “I’m just really clumsy and-” Oliver didn’t hear the rest of what he said because there was a hand-shaped mark on his upper arm. 

“Who the fuck did that?” Oliver demanded getting closer and gesturing at the handprint. Barry froze and cringed when he saw what Oliver was pointing at. “Did someone from the team do that?” He asked, thinking maybe he was bullied. He’d kill any of his teammates if they were picking on a kid who looked like a small breeze could knock him over. Barry scrunched his brow in confusion for a second before understanding.

“No, no,” Barry quickly said, shaking his head, still trying to struggle into his shirt without lifting his arms.

“I can wrap that for you,” Oliver heard himself offering. He picked up the wrapping and began to wind it around before the kid could form a coherent word.

“So, who did this to you?” Oliver felt anger simmering in his stomach at the thought of someone hurting the defenceless kid, that, from what he could tell was the nicest person he’d met.

“No- no one,” Barry responded as Oliver helped him get into his shirt. So he was scared of them. Maybe a parent? “Look, thanks for the help in all. I gotta get home or my foster parents worry. See you in Chemisty.” That kid booked it out of there as fast as he could and Oliver went to pick up his bag, unable to get that injury out of his head.

* * *

 

“You have to get the fuck out of that house,” Oliver stated when he walked up to Barry at his locker the next day.

“Why, hello to you too, Oliver,” he replied sarcastically, continuing to put some books into his backpack for home. “You’re right, it is a lovely day out to be making such pleasant small talk. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company presently?” He asked slamming the door and heading towards the library. 

“Cut the shit, Allen,” Oliver growled, yanking the backpack out of Barry’s arm. Barry raised his eyebrow at Oliver, who gave him a dirty look as if daring him to take it back when he was injured. Barry rolled his eyes but let him carry it.

“You need to get out of that house.” Barry sighed. Oliver had figured it out and there probably was really no point in denying it.

“I’ll be gone in a couple years anyway. I need to stay at this school if I hope to graduate and get emancipated-“

“Why can’t you do it at a place where people doesn’t kick the shit out of you?” 

“Look, we aren’t all born with a silver spoon in our mouths. I’m the son of a suspected murderer and my mom’s dead, how well do you think that’s going to go over for getting a job?” Barry burst out turning a hard stare onto Oliver. “I have to use every opportunity I can to get a leg up. I don’t want to lose my scholarship here and all the hard work I put in. And I told you, it was a one time thing- they’ve not done it before.” Oliver just stared at him unblinkingly. “And it won’t again,” he added before resuming his course. Though he sounded much less sure of the last part. He didn’t think adding ‘I’ve seen worse’ would really help for the older boy to let it go so he swallowed down that sentence.

“Why do you even care, Queen?” Barry asked over his shoulder.

Oliver stopped for a second not sure of his answer. He honestly didn’t know. The two had been lab partners for two months and they’d barely said anything to each other. After Barry’s initial attempt to befriend Oliver, he’d just ended up working in silence, occasionally telling Oliver what to write down on a lab report. Oliver already had friends, so he didn’t need boy wonder getting any ideas about being best friends, but when he saw- what he saw yesterday. He felt pissed, he felt, insanely protective, maybe it was because Barry was so young. Maybe he reminded him of Thea. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted in a whisper as they entered the library. Barry was silent until he reached his usual table and flopped his stuff down with as little noise as possible to not draw attention to himself or his companion.

“I do, you have a hero complex,” Barry answered. Before Oliver could think of a vehement rebuke, because that was _so not_ true, Barry spoke again. “So, are you going to stay and study since you followed me all the way here?” Oliver looked around at the near deserted library, before shrugging and flopping into the seat across from Barry. He opened his mouth- 

“You can only stay if you talk about schoolwork or I’ll just go home to study.” Oliver snapped his jaw closed glaring at the younger boy, who was getting out all his schoolwork. He weighed his options. Oliver definitely didn’t want Barry to go home when he still let out wheezes of breath every once and awhile.

“Fine,” he said gritting his teeth. He didn’t like this one fucking bit. He got out his notebook, but was really studying the brunette across from him. He vowed that if he saw anything wrong with Barry again he was going to do something about it, whether he liked it or not.

Oliver didn’t think he’d have to make good on his promise so soon, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. Barry didn’t show up for class the following Monday or Tuesday. Unfortunately, Oliver didn’t have Barry’s number or address, so he had to wait. 

On Tuesday, he talked to his resident expert on advice.

“Hey, Laurel?” He paused to make sure she looked up he had her full attention. 

“Yeah, Ollie?” She asked, looking up from her book and smiling at him. It wasn’t quite as bright as Barry’s smile, the two times he had seen it anyway.

He didn’t answer right away, trying to gather the right words. He brow bunched in concern.

“What’s wrong, Ol?” He took a deep breath.

“I have this friend- well, kind of, I think something, bad is happening- okay, I know something bad happened, at home. Well, just, who should I tell?” Her eyes grew wide with concern.

“Who? It’s not Tommy right- or, wait, is it your lab partner?” Oliver’s face must have given it away. “Oh, Ollie, you have to tell someone. How about my dad I think he should be home by now and-” 

“Look, I just want to make sure, he’s just been gone from school, it could be nothing.” Oliver didn’t believe his own words. Laurel looked unsure, probably ready to bolt downstairs.

“Just, let me talk to him. Warn him before I tell the cops, okay,” he pleaded. “He was dealt a shitty hand, he deserves that much from me okay, Laurel.” She looked down at her book blankly. “ _Okay_ ,” he reiterated more firmly.

“Fine.”

Barry didn’t come back until Thursday. He was sitting at their lab table when Oliver walked in.

He gave him a once over. He looked okay from what he could see, but he hadn’t known the last time, and _Jesus, last time, how fucked up was that?_ And it had been pure chance that he had happened upon him in the locker room before. 

Barry didn’t look up when Oliver sat next to him. He continued to look at his textbook. Oliver couldn’t be sure, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t actually reading. As Oliver tried to think of how to approach this… situation… the Ms. Meyers began the day’s lecture.

“You were right,” came a whisper from his left that he would have missed if 90% of Oliver’s attention hadn’t been focused on the kid already. He turned his head completely to the brunette, not even bothering to pretend to pay attention at the front of the class. He looked closely at him, trying to see where that bastard had hurt him again, but Barry was wearing their school uniform sweater and the uniform trousers; both covered him well. 

“My friend’s dad is a cop, will you talk to him?” He held his breath, watching Barry, who was still facing forward. Whether he agreed or not, he was talking to Laurel’s dad about this today. It wasn’t going to happen again. After a beat he nodded. He finally glanced over at Oliver.

“Will you, come with me?” he asked nervously, eyes darting back to the front. Oliver’s face softened at that. 

“Of course, Barry.” He let out a shaky breath at Oliver’s response. 

“Thanks,” he whispered. Oliver didn’t know why, but he reached under the table and put his hand over Barry’s. His hand must have a mind of its own. But he couldn’t deny that it felt reassuring to feel the warmth of his hand. He hadn’t failed the kid, it wasn’t too late.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that’s what came out when I typed this up… It was… a lot more hurt than comfort. I don’t mean to hurt Barry, honestly, I love him, I swear!!! Also, headcanon for this, Oliver has a spring birthday, so missed the deadline and started school a bit late. Barry's started school a year early and skipped a grade.
> 
> Again, I barely edited, so please forgive grammar, spelling errors and overall choppiness.
> 
> Also, barely, but JUST posted before midnight for Olivarry Week. It was a close call. Tomorrow’s the last day! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story.


End file.
